“Sending messages back to Rika, brother?” Jan said, coming up to join him. “Trying to make sure she does everything just the way you would want?”
“Something like that,” Endi said with an easy smile that matched Jan’s. The difference was that, as far as Endi could see, his brother didn’t have to work at it. It just came naturally.
“You could have stayed home,” Jan said. “You could have sent your birds from Ishjemme.”
“And miss out on the glory?” Endi countered, ignoring the part where his brother didn’t really have a clue what it was that he did. A war could be won or lost by intelligence, and Jan thought he could help with it from across the sea? “I’ll leave it to Rika and Oli, I think.”
Let them stay behind where they couldn’t influence anything. It wasn’t as though they were siblings who had a chance to make a name for themselves as Duke. Now, if Jan had stayed behind, Endi might have been worried, but his brother wasn’t going to stray as far from Sophia as that.
“Rika is stronger than she looks,” Jan said. “But you know that, you saw her part in saving Sophia from that guardsman.”
Endi nodded, trying to hide his annoyance. If his sister hadn’t been there, Bjornen might have finished the job, and none of this would have come to pass. Endi simply hadn’t been able to stand by and let the assassin murder his sister along with Sophia. This was about saving his family, not killing them.
“She is,” he agreed. “Although I don’t know if the guardsman was as dangerous as that thing controlling Kate. Do you think we’ve just left Rika there with it without knowing?”
If he could give his brother a reason to go home, then all the better. Although thoughts of it still brought a hint of annoyance to Endi. He’d tried to delay Sophia’s would-be rescuers, and they’d still gotten there in time. It would all have been simpler if she’d died. She would have been gone, the invasion would have been prevented, and her sister would have been locked away where she couldn’t do any harm.
“Think what it will be like,” Jan said. “We will have our family’s lands back across the water when this is done.”
“Oh, I’m thinking about it,” Endi assured him.
Mostly, he was thinking about what it would take to stop it all. They were lands that they hadn’t seen in their lives, and that would probably mean fresh fights against whoever currently occupied them. Endi wondered sometimes if his brother could really see the world so simply, without any of the consequences that dogged his every thought.
“You worry too much about things, Endi,” Jan said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Endi smiled at that. His brother truly meant it, he knew. “And you don’t worry enough, Jan. Still, don’t worry, I’ll be there to cover your back when you charge in without thinking to impress Sophia.”
“I’m not trying to impress Sophia,” Jan said, a little too hotly.
“Of course you aren’t,” Endi said. “Now, I’d best go. I’ve more messages to write if all this is going to go smoothly.”
His brother could have asked what messages. Endi would have, but Jan wasn’t him. He trusted too much. He wasn’t even watching Endi as Endi made his way across the deck, in the direction of one of the clan leaders. Endi knew that because he was watching, making sure that his brother didn’t see anything he shouldn’t.
“My lord Skyddar,” the man said, with a nod of respect.
“Torst,” Endi said, with a nod that matched it. He clasped the man’s hand the way a brother might. “You’re coming a long way across the sea with us for this.”
“Aye, it is a journey,” the other man agreed.
They sat there for a while, staring out at the sea. Endi was good at talking, but he knew when not to talk, too. A man like this wouldn’t respect someone who said too much at a time.
“It will be a long journey back, too,” Endi said, “if the Master of Crows attacks.”
The other man frowned for a moment or two, then nodded. “Aye, it could be.”
“And all your men are here, a part of this,” Endi said. “Who’s tending the home fires now, Torst?”
“My wife is there, and my youngest boy,” the clan leader said.
“Doesn’t seem like enough somehow, if men come while we’re gone.”
Endi paused again, letting the other man think about that for a while.
“Aye,” Torst admitted, “it’s a thought.”
Endi sighed. “Why are you a part of this, Torst?”
The other man shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just told me that,” Endi said. “You’ve a wife at home and a son. You must have something special ahead of you to send you racing into battle like a man half your age.”
“I’d have thought you’d be happy of it,” the other man said, spitting out over the side of the boat. “It’s your family taking us there for this.”
“My cousin,” Endi said, stressing the word. “And I fear the harshness of her life has given her some strange ideas about how the world works. She thinks that if we all charge over to Ashton, they’ll lay down their arms and we’ll roll over them.”
“Whereas you don’t think it will be so easy?” Torst asked.
Endi looked at him for long seconds. He took out a flask of wine, handing it to the other man. “Did you ever hear of a war that worked like that? I haven’t.”
“No,” Torst said. He took a sip of the wine. “Wars are a bloody business. Nothing neat or easy about them.”
“And even if you win, you’re likely to spark another, half the time,” Endi said. “I’ve read about the civil wars. I’ve no wish to be part of another set of them. It might be better to avoid it completely.”
The look Torst gave him was a hard one, but Endi had been expecting a look like that at some point. The other man was a clan leader, after all, and you didn’t get to be that without some pride.
“I’m no coward,” Torst said.
“Do you think I am?” Endi countered, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword. “A man should have the strength to fight for his home, his family. And here we are, sailing further from both. For what? Some fool’s errand to save a man whose family has stood as enemies to ours for generations?”
He let those words sink in; could practically see Torst thinking.
“You’ve a point, but what you’re hinting at… men could call it treason too.”
Endi shook his head. “Treason is betraying your home, your kingdom. This is being ready to save it. I’m not asking you to run away for no reason. I’m just asking you to pull back if it looks as though we’re going to be left with no one to defend Ishjemme, no one to keep our people safe.”
With another man, he might have offered money. With other men, he had offered money. For Torst, though, that wasn’t the way. A man like him would be insulted by it.
“You’re saying that it might not even come to it?” Torst said.
Endi shrugged. “I’m not such a fool as to throw away a safe victory,” he said. “But if I hear reports of danger, we must be ready to hurry home to meet it. Will you be ready to move if I send the message?”
He didn’t call it an order. A man like this would heed a warning where he wouldn’t follow a command.
“Aye,” Torst said. “I’ll be ready.”
Endi clasped the man’s hand again, thinking of all the other hands he had clasped in the last few days. Sometimes gold had changed hands, sometimes promises of power. Sometimes he had spoken about honor, or protecting their families. Endi said whatever he needed to say to ensure that they would act when the time came.
Ishjemme was in peril, even if he was the only one who could see it. He couldn’t charge in to save it with a sword, but he could protect it, from anything, and anyone, who threatened it.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Lord Cranston and his men sailed for Ishjemme with all the speed that their borrowed boats would allow. He wished that speed were greater, but it turned out that a man betraying his queen
’s commands couldn’t afford to be picky, and there were only so many vessels that would take them where they wanted to go.
He gripped the side rail tight as they approached the fjords, thinking of how this would look to anyone there on the shore. He wasn’t surprised to find fires springing up on the shore, warning signals telling the city beyond that they were coming.
“They think that we’re enemies, my lord,” Will said, moving to Lord Cranston’s side. Lord Cranston didn’t mind the familiarity of it. Will was probably the only person in their company who missed Kate more than him, and he was a capable lad, useful to have around.
“Wouldn’t you?” Lord Cranston replied. “When a free company comes calling uninvited, it typically means blood.”
Eventually, this visit would probably mean blood too, but for the Dowager, not for Kate or her people. Lord Cranston was no less determined now than he had been at the start of this voyage: he would serve Kate in whatever conflict was coming. It was the first time that Lord Cranston had felt this right about a job, even if there was no commission, no certainty of payment, perhaps even no real hope of winning.
He drummed his fingers on the rail of the ship, both impatient to get to Ishjemme and thinking about the potential consequences of those fires.
“Tell the men that I don’t want any signs of weapons on deck,” he said. “Get the captain to fly a flag of parley, and signal all but the lead ship to hang back.”
“Yes sir,” Will said, hurrying off to do it. Not quite with the speed that Kate had once done it, but still good enough. Pennants flew up the lines of their ship, giving orders. Their ship moved on ahead of the others with them, and when small boats came out to guide them through the shallows, Lord Cranston waved to them.
“Ahoy there! I am Lord Peter Cranston. We have come to join the Danse sisters’ forces.”
“We’ve no need of mercenaries,” a man shouted up from one of the boats.
Lord Cranston looked him up and down. “I didn’t know sailors made those decisions. I’m here to speak to the sisters.”
“You’ll have enough trouble with that,” the man said, but even so, his small boat started to guide them in toward the shore. Lord Cranston just hoped that he would do it honestly, because some of the rocks there looked as though they could tear a ship to shreds with ease.
They went forward, and the moment Lord Cranston saw the city of Ishjemme, his heart fell. He’d been expecting a wall of warships getting ready to fight, a city with soldiers everywhere he looked and cannon bristling. Now though, even with the warning fires burning, only a small contingent of soldiers stood ready to meet them on the docks. The water in front of them was almost empty, any ships that had been there long gone.
“We’re too late,” Lord Cranston said.
They’d missed it. They’d missed the invasion.
***
Will stared at Ishjemme as their ship creaked its way to its docks, feeling somehow empty as they got close to it. He’d been expecting… well, he’d been expecting more, he guessed. He’d been expecting there to be a fleet there, for there to be soldiers…
For Kate to be there.
Lord Cranston gestured to him as they bumped against the docks, and Will went over to them with him, hopping to them and feeling the unsteadiness after his legs had only just gotten used to the rolling of the sea.
There were soldiers there waiting, headed by a young man who looked as though he would rather have been reading in a library somewhere. He didn’t even wear a sword, yet the men there were looking to him, waiting for him to say something.
“I should warn you,” he said, “that Ishjemme’s port regulations are quite strict on the subject of pirates, bandits, and raiders.”
He said it so blandly that Will almost missed the threat in it.
“Then it is a good thing that we are none of those things,” Lord Cranston said. “I am Lord Peter Cranston, and you, I believe, are Oli Skyddar.”
Will was impressed by that, even though he should have guessed that Lord Cranston would have made preparations for anything he might encounter in Ishjemme. Of course he would have learned what he could about Duke Lars’s family.
“Lord Cranston?” Oli said. “You were the one whose company Kate fought in.”
“I was,” Lord Cranston said, and Will felt some of the tension leaving the situation. “She was like a daughter to me, and I came here to join her, to fight alongside her. I see I am too late.”
Too late. The words still hurt Will. He’d hoped that he would see Kate again. He’d hoped… he’d hoped all kinds of things. When she’d left, he’d felt so empty, and then when Lord Cranston had announced that they were going to serve her sister, he’d dared to hope again. The thought that they’d missed her felt like a blade thrust into his heart.
“I’m sorry,” Oli said. “The fleet has already sailed for Ashton, with most of my family, and Sophia, aboard.”
“Sophia?” Will said. “Not Kate?”
He blurted it out before he could think to do otherwise. Both Lord Cranston and the bookish-looking young man turned to him and Will winced at the sudden attention.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that… I was hoping to see her.”
“We all were, Will,” Lord Cranston said.
“That might still be possible,” Oli said, and just those words were enough to send fresh hope burning through Will’s heart. “Once she recovers.”
“Recovers?” Will blurted. Even after the last outburst, he couldn’t help it. “Kate’s hurt?”
From the worried look that crossed Lord Cranston’s face, he wanted to blurt out the same thing, although he managed to control himself.
“There was an attack,” Oli began. “Kate was—”
Will wasn’t paying attention at that point, because he was too busy watching the quartet of figures running down through the city. Three of them, two young women and a man, ran along together, while at the head of them…
“Kate!” Will shouted as she got closer. He ran to meet her, and damn the discipline of a military company. She stopped as he ran to her, and Will drew her into his arms without even thinking about it. It was so natural to kiss her then, so obvious, and he did it, clinging to her, not wanting to let her go because he suspected that the moment he did it, whatever dream this was would disappear.
Lord Cranston’s cough reminded him that they were a long way from alone. Will pulled back, staring at Kate, trying to drink in every hint of difference, every change in her.
“Kate, are you all right? They said you were recovering from something. Did something hurt you?”
Whatever it was, he swore in that moment that he would destroy it. Then he laughed to himself. Kate didn’t need his help in fighting anything.
Kate shook her head. “That’s all done with, Will. I’m so glad to see you again.” She seemed to remember the presence of the others there, pulling back. “There’s so much I need to say to you, but later, all right?”
“Later,” Will agreed. Somehow, it always seemed to be later, but if that kiss was anything to go by, he couldn’t object to the promise of it.
“Oli,” she said. “Am I too late? Are they all gone?”
The young man at the head of the soldiers nodded. “I was just telling Lord Cranston here that. They left for Ashton an hour before we sighted Lord Cranston’s ships, at least.”
Will saw Kate turn to Lord Cranston then, and for a moment he thought that perhaps she might hug him. Instead, she saluted.
“Generally,” Lord Cranston said, in a serious tone, “the penalty for desertion is execution.”
Will froze at that, fear building inside of him. Surely Lord Cranston couldn’t mean that? The man was mercurial, occasionally severe, always prickly, but something like that would be… insane.
“In this case, though,” Lord Cranston said, “I’ll settle for you accepting my company as yours, Kate.”
He dropped to one knee, holding up his sheathed sword for her to
take. Will copied the movement, and around him, he saw the rest of Lord Cranston’s company doing the same. From what he understood, they’d come there with the intention of serving Sophia, but she wasn’t here, and Kate was. More than that, Kate was the one who had served with them, fought with them, saved them.
Kate was the one he loved, even as he felt all kinds of other things about her running away so suddenly.
Will saw Kate move to Lord Cranston, taking his sword and then handing it back to him.
“I’m not a queen,” Kate said, “and you taught me to always ask when you were being paid for fighting. I’m not sure we have much to offer.”
“You have more than enough,” Lord Cranston assured her. Will could only agree with it.
Kate nodded. “I’ll accept your help on Sophia’s behalf. There’s one condition though.”
“What condition?” Lord Cranston asked.
“I’m told that there’s a war on,” Kate said. She nodded to the ship that sat there. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to join it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
The Master of Crows let his attention wander, splitting it through bird after bird as he watched the events unfolding below. He let his borrowed eyes take in an execution in Heimdorf, a meeting along a riverbank. He collected pieces to fit together like a master craftsman inlaying a table, the pattern of it already forming in his head.
All of that was a distraction, though, a way of ensuring that nothing unexpected happened. The part that mattered, he watched with corvid after corvid, raven and crow, rook and magpie, all watching fragments of the whole.
He brought his attention back, briefly, to the grand house in Carrick where he sat in the drawing room, maps spread out on a table. Wooden pieces sat there, moved by junior officers according to the latest reports. The Master of Crows looked through the eyes of one of his creatures, reached out, and corrected the position of one of them by the width of a finger.